Nora Vale

Nora had covered WeWork's collapse, crypto frauds, SPAC kings, meme-stock prophets, and hedge-fund managers who called themselves contrarian while copying each other's trades. She knew the smell of hype. Ethan could tell she expected to smell it on him. Instead, he gave her restraint. He did not trade in front of her. He did not brag. He did not ask her not to write. He answered enough to become human and withheld enough to remain a question. At 3:05, she closed her notebook. "I don't know what you are," Nora said. "Unemployed." "Not for long." "Is that optimism or a threat?" "A headline, maybe." His stomach tightened. "Nora." She stood. "Relax. I'm not writing the insider-trading version. Not today." "What's the version?"